


Han Solo and the Heir to the Throne

by yukiawison



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, prince!luke, servant!Han
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Prince Luke Skywalker tires of being called your highness, especially by Han.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Han Solo and the Heir to the Throne

**Author's Note:**

> Idk guys I'm not super happy with the ending.

"Prince Luke?" The voice came anxious from the other side of the door. It must've been the new guy.

Luke fumbled with his tie, glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror as he ran through his speech in his head. 

"Prince Luke may I be permitted in?"

"Yes," he said, because his voice was shaky and he couldn't get his tie on.

The door opened with a gentle click and a tall, brunette, handsome servant his age came in. "I'm Han Solo your highness. I don't believe we've met."

"It's a pleasure Mr. Solo," he said, still struggling with the tie.

"May I help you your highness?" Han Solo asked quietly.

Luke nodded, relinquishing the tie and taking a step closer to him. "How do you come to be in service here Mr. Solo?" He asked, more to distract himself than anything else.

"I need the money your highness, and I'm sure I will enjoy the work." The answer was vague, but Luke assumed he hadn't earned the level of trust that warranted more detail.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, as if it wasn't obvious from his shaking hands.

"Yeah, I've never spoken at an event before." Han fixed his tie, and tugged on his collar to even it out. He had pretty eyes.

"I'm sure you'll do wonderfully," he said, though he didn't know what he was talking about.

"Thank you. I hope you'll do well here."

"I do too Prince Luke."

The speech was awkward, stuttered and disjointed until Luke's eyes found Han Solo's pretty ones. He was holding a tray of appetizers and looking at him with worry. And then it clicked, all the worry about disappointing his father, about looking like an idiot in front of the people he was expected to rule, dissolved. For a moment he was just talking to the new guy in the bathroom, and that wasn't so hard.

"You were excellent your highness," Han Solo said afterward, as he helped him out of the stiff suit. His mother insisted on having someone to help him change because of his hand, or lack thereof, despite his protests that he was perfectly fine dressing himself. Not that he got to choose his outfits, at least not when he was going to appear in public.

Excellent was not correct. Excellent belonged to his father. Decent, subpar, mediocre, the occasional adequate: these were the words that belonged to Prince Luke Skywalker. He was a perpetual disappointment.

"You don't have to lie Mr. Solo. I may be royalty but I deserve the truth."

"The truth is you were excellent," he said pointedly, and stood there looking at him before adding "your highness" embarrassedly. 

"You've just got to practice," Leia said through a mouthful of chocolate she'd gotten from one of her many suitors. "You'll get there Luke trust me." She was sitting on his bed, gown draped lazily around the cushions, tiara askew. She hated wearing it, but unfortunately it was part of the job description.

"You recovered well, what was with that?"

"The new servant, have you met him?"

She frowned. "Solo?"

"Han Solo. He's interesting. He talks more than the rest of them."

She sighed. "I could do away with all the your highness this and your highness that. Just once I want to be called Leia."

"I do."

"Dad doesn't," she grumbled. 

Dad didn't talk to them much at all nowadays.

***

"I understand that you are to be my personal servant?" Han Solo nodded and Luke thought he could see a hint of a smile on his face.

"Yes your highness," Luke thought about what Leia had said for a moment.

"I get tired of these titles, do you could call me...Luke?"

Han flushed. "I could lose my job your highness."

"Of course, forgive me," he said quickly. Not only was the familiarity forbidden, but Luke had only just met Mr. Han Solo.

The next evening, their father called the twins for dinner. Usually meals were sorted affairs. The king would be out with diplomats, or at a party with Queen Padmè, and Leia and Luke would eat together at the end of the long dining table, chewing quietly as they stared up at the crystal chandelier, or more enjoyably, they'd eat in Leia's room, sitting on the floor in pajamas watching movies. He swore they nearly gave Han a heart attack one evening when he walked in on half of the royal family watching the Lizzie McGuire movie and eating fish sticks.

Dinners all together were awkward, stressful events that usually ended in a slammed door from Leia or tears from Luke.

They ate in relative silence until Anakin Skywalker decided it was time to speak. "Your speech my son, it was rough."

"But he recovered well," his mother put in in an attempt to calm the fire in her husband's eyes.

"I'm sorry father. I will do better."

"If you are to be in charge of this kingdom you must not be afraid to speak to its subjects."

"Oh lay off him dad," Leia cut in. "So he's not you. Who cares?"

"Do not take that tone with me young lady, it is not dignified." Anakin gritted his teeth in anger. He often looked like Leia when he was angry, though he would never tell her this.

"I don't give a shit about dignified," she said smugly. He knew she did this just to keep him away from Luke, and he was grateful for it. She wasn't the one who would inherit the throne, in her mind it didn't matter a bit what her father thought of her. For Luke it was a constant uphill battle, one that he was usually losing. 

"Go to your room Princess Leia," she winced at the formal title.

"Gladly," she huffed, jumping up from the table and slamming the door behind her.

Luke's eyes were trained on his plate. "May I be excused?" He asked hesitantly.

"You may," Padmè cut in before Anakin could open his mouth. He stood, eyes still downcast.

"Prince Luke," he looked up. "Do not disappoint me again."

That night, as he washed the nervous sweat from his skin he couldn't help but shed a few tears. Unlike Leia he would never get used to harsh words from their father.

"Prince Luke may I come in?" It was Han Solo again. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, sucking in a breath. 

"Yes Mr. Solo," he said, and Han came in. He could see the tears, Luke knew by the look on his face that he could tell something was wrong.

"I'm fine," he filled in. "Really I am, this happens all the time."

"It shouldn't," Han said under his breath.

"What was that?"

Han looked up at him. "I said it shouldn't your highness. Please excuse my impertinence."

"I don't think you're impertinent," Luke said. "I think you're kind."

Han smirked and then moved forward to help him with the unbuttoning. Luke caught him staring at his prosthetic hand. He wondered if the help gossiped about it or if they all knew how it happened.

"I lost it in a car accident," he said. "Do they tell you that when you're hired. Do you get all the scoop about the royal family?"

Han shrugged. "I prefer to draw my own conclusions."

"And what conclusions are these?"

Han thought for a moment. "His majesty is stubborn, but he loves his kingdom. The queen is gentle and loving, and always by King Anakin's side. The princess is as stubborn as your father and as cunning as your mother, and as beautiful as you. You, your highness, are kind and honest and pure in all your pursuits."

Luke was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Han had called him beautiful. No one had been that forward with him, ever. He liked it. He liked Han. Holy shit he liked Han. 

He'd had dumb crushes before, on ambassadors and diplomats and other princes, but not on servants, not on his servants.

"Thank you," Luke said, feeling his face heating up. 

"Anytime kid...I mean your highness," he quickly corrected.

Anytime kid. The words buzzed through his brain that night. Those words and those eyes, those lips that looked so soft he could kiss them forever. He woke up feeling embarrassed and entirely too turned on for 8 o'clock in the morning. He got up and instead of ringing for the man he's been dreaming about, he tiptoed across the hall and slipped into Leia's room.

"Leia? Are you awake?" She poked her head up out of the covers and pulled back the blankets, beckoning him to come lay beside her. He did, curling his arms around her.

"What's up Luke?"

"Thanks for last night."

"I don't care if he hates me. I don't hate me and that's what counts,"

"I don't hate you either. 

"I know," she smiled. "Thank you."

"I have something to tell you," and because he used his secret telling voice she scooted closer to listen.

"Go ahead," she said.

"I've got a crush."

"Oooh, who?" Leia knew he was gay. No one else did. "That Prince what's his name? The one with the great hair? His sister was hotter if you ask me." 

"Not him."

"Then who? That diplomat they set me up with? He was definitely gay."

"No no, not any of them. It's Han. I've got a crush on Han Solo." 

"The Han Solo who works for us?"

"Yes," he muttered. "Is that awful?"

"Luke you're adorable. Like you could do anything awful. I'll admit, it will be tricky."

"I'm not going to act on it," he shot back, shocked.

"Why not? I've had affairs." Leia had had many affairs, make out sessions with the girls Luke was matched up with, second base with boys on balconies. Luke hadn't, mostly because no one had asked. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it. The aristocratic community was rife with scandal. Scandal that kept out of dinner parties but was whispered in gardens and on lush lawns afterwards. 

"Yes, but you're you. And you have affairs with rich people."

"Hey, I don't discriminate. Sex is sex."

Luke sighed. "It's not that simple."

"Because he's poor or because you're a coward?"

"Me, because of me. He's gorgeous and kind and..."

"I got it I got it," she reached out a palm to cover his mouth.

"Just be careful Luke. If you get caught it's a lot worse than if I get caught."

He nodded, he knew. It was that kept him from kissing boys in darkened hallways and feeling eager hands on his skin. 

She kissed his cheek and he reluctantly got up and headed for the door.

"Thanks Leia."

***

There was a ball. The palace was opened up and women with dresses that flowed to the floor entered on the arms of strong jawed men in crisp suits.

Han was holding a plateful of spinach and egg tarts, which, regrettably, Luke had had seven of in an attempt to stay near to the other man without seeming odd.

His father had practically demanded he dance with the girls at the ball, and he did, awkwardly turning them and trying not to step on their feet. He danced, and had champagne, a few glasses too many he admitted as the room turned in a hazy blur of spinning fabric and shimmering silhouettes.

"Are you alright your highness?" Han appeared at his elbow. 

"I need some air," he said, feet feeling unsteady beneath him. "Come with me."

"Prince Luke I can't do that." He put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

"I'll make up an excuse for you. Don't worry. You're helping me so they can't be angry with you."

He pulled him outside into the garden. The cool night air hit his liquor warmed face and made him grin. He loosened his tie and breathed in the night.

"I hate it in there. It's too stuffy, too loud, no space to think." He stretched his arms up into the air and sighed. "I hate dancing too. I'm no good at it."

"I don't think those girls you were dancing with cared much your highness." Han said, standing awkwardly beside him.

"Well I don't have much interest in them," he said despite himself. 

"None of them?" Han asked, surprised.

"Between you and me," he was very drunk and feeling very reckless. "I'm more interested in the people Leia gets set up with."

He evidently caught his drift because he flushed slightly and looked down at the ground.

"Point taken. Are you going to be okay your highness? You look sick..."

Luke interrupted the thought by throwing up in a bush. Great, just great. His mouth tasted sour with an acrid version of the tart. He felt bad for wasting the champagne. "Don't tell my father Mr. Solo," he said, as the other man offered him his handkerchief. 

"I won't," he replied. 

The next morning Luke woke to a glass of water and aspirin on his bedside table. He needed it. His head split with pain, his muscles were stiff, and his vision blurred endlessly in the sunlight. Note to self: no champagne around boys you like. 

He laid in bed for awhile, drinking in the sunlight and taking small sips from the glass. He sunk into his pillow and thought about what it would be like to wake up beside someone. A princess who wasn't interested in him, or tried to kiss him with emotion he couldn't reciprocate, Han Solo, shirtless and grinning, kissing him sleepily as he stretched out in the blankets. Han Solo, this man he hardly knew, kissing him good morning.

"I'm sorry about last night," he muttered as Han helped him dress.

"Think nothing of it your highness."

Oh but I'm thinking a lot about it, and a lot about you. Was he so starved for affection that he was drooling over the man whose job it was to wait on him? And now he knew he was gay. Did it bother him? Would he quit? He was still here, brushing his skin slightly as he did up the buttons. His long eyelashes caught the light and Luke felt his face heating up.

"I mean it kid, it's nothing," Han caught his eye, smirking.

Kid, he called him kid again. Not your highness, not prince, kid. In truth he hadn't been a kid since his 10th birthday when his father had told him he was heir to the Skywalker throne and should start acting like it. They pulled him out of school and got him a private tutor. He was no longer Luke, just your highness and the young prince. He couldn't go out to play, not when he could be studying the history of their kingdom or physics or public speaking.

He used to be paralyzingly afraid of speaking in public. He'd get panic attacks, shaking like a leaf with shooting pains in his chest. He thought he was dying. It got better with practice, practice and remembering to breathe.

Han tightened Luke's tie. "You can hardly tell you're hungover," he winked. "Your highness."

***

"Leia can I come in?" She was being fitted for a dress, something that usually took an hour of pins and standing as still as she could. He usually talked to her as this happened, to keep her from getting too bored.

"Yeah," she called and something in her voice made him eager to open the door. 

Han Solo had his mouth full of pins, when he looked up at him.

"Our seamstress is sick. So Mr. Solo is filling in." She smirked at him, scanning his now flushed face.

"I didn't know you sewed," Luke said, flustered. Han stuck another pin in the fabric of Leia's dress. 

"I can do a lot of things your highness." It sounded almost flirty.

"What do you think Luke?" she asked. "I mean they guys'll like anything but the girls? Hold on Han can I move a sec?" He nodded and she spun dramatically, facing him with a hand on her hip and the other framing her face, very Marilyn Monroe. She glanced at Han. "As if you hadn't guessed that both of the Skywalker twins are queer," she teased.

"I think they'll love it," Luke filled in. She smiled. 

"You know what we should do when you're done?" she asked. 

"What your highness?"

"We should order pizza. Correction I should order pizza. I've never done it before."

"You haven't?" He looked vaguely shocked, although Han, with his toned muscles and lean shoulders didn't seem the take out type.

"Dad doesn't let us," she said. "He doesn't let me do most things. He doesn't let Luke do anything," she said. Han looked at him pityingly. Great, just what he needed, pity.

"Well if you don't tell I won't," he said with a wink that made Luke's knees weak.

"Hello this is Leia. Can I have two large...yes the princess. Yes I'm serious. Two large pizzas one with pineapple and ham the other with...how am I supposed to prove it on the phone? Ugh, pineapple and ham and the other is spinach and mushroom. And an order of breadsticks. The pineapple is for Luke. Yes the prince. I assume you know the address? Good."

Luke was laughing hysterically on her bed. Han was stifling his laughter but not very well.

She hung up. "I did it. First pizza ordered," she smiled triumphantly. "Now let's watch a movie. How about Luke's favorite?"

Luke flushed. "Leia..."

"Come on. You know you love The Princess Bride."

Han grinned. He got up, making to leave.

"Whoa where are you going Han? You're watching with us."

"Princess Leia I have to..."

"Tell them the fitting ran long. Come on Han for me? For Luke?"

Han looked hesitant but nodded. "For you your highness, as you wish."

Leia laughed and threw her arms around him in a brief hug. The Skywalker twins didn't have many friends, and Leia was evidently eager to add him to the list.

"Sit next to Luke," she said, and he scooted over to give him room. With the three of them on the bed Han's thigh pressed against his, their shoulders brushing in the dark. When he got up to get the pizza Luke missed the warmth. They ate pizza and watched and laughed, and Luke even leaned his head on Han's shoulder, gently, like a question. He didn't pull away, he didn't stiffen, he didn't shift. 

When the credits rolled he didn't want to get up. He was full and the pizza was nearly gone. Pins were starting to come out of Leia's dress where she laid on it funny. Han got up to help her. 

"Han? Can I call you Han?" she asked.

"Of course princess."

"Can we be friends? The three of us? I don't have many friends. I don't have many people to look out for me."

"I would love to be friends your highness."

"Call me Leia, just this once."

"Let's be friends Leia," he smiled. "I'm sorry you two are so lonely. I've been alone all my life. I wouldn't want that for you."

I've been alone all my life. Luke's chest hurt. Alone, even the word sounded pained. Alone, lonely, all my life. Luke had very few people: a father who thought he was a disappointment, a supportive but often silent mother, a sister who loved him to the moon and back, and Han: Han who thought he was beautiful and kind and wanted to be his friend.

"I like him Luke. He's good," Leia said when he had gone. "Seduce him," she grinned.

***

 

Luke was dancing by himself. He was practicing for the upcoming ball where he'd have to dance in front of everyone. He was getting better, but in front of everyone most of his talent dissipated with nerves. So he practiced and practiced.

"Do you need any help?" He looked up to see Han watching him.

"I could teach you. It would be good practice."

"Sure kid," he smiled. There was no one around. He could dispense with formalities. 

He put a hand on Han's waist. It would be awkward leading with their height difference. Han clasped his hand in Luke's. God, his eyes were pretty. "Follow me," he said, leading him through the steps.

"Anywhere your highness."

Luke blushed. "Quit it, you're distracting me."he tightened his grip on Han's slim waist, drawing him closer, their chests nearly touching.

"You're cute when your flustered," he smirked.

"You're cute when your flustered your highness," he shot back, playing the royalty card.

Now at balls Luke shamelessly lurked in the corners with Leia and Han. 

"Later losers," she crowed, strutting off to talk to a pretty girl in a blue dress. Leia's dress was the shimmery white one Han had fitted. It showed off her lean legs and the creamy skin of her collar bone.

"You ever think a princess and a guy like me...?"

"No," he said before he could stop himself. Han laughed.

"Me neither."

You could make it with me, he thought but didn't say. You could make it with a prince.

***

"What's wrong?" There was clearly something wrong, because Han was wincing as he did up Luke's buttons. 

"Nothing, just my wrist your highness."

"Did you hurt it Han?" His brows furrowed with concern. He reached out to touch it and Han fought back a yelp. 

"Han what if you broke it? You've got to go to the doctor!"

Han shook his head. "I don't have the money."

"What do you mean?" His wrist really was swollen, whatever he'd done to it, he would definitely need a cast.

"Some people aren't made of money," he said angrily.

"That's not fair."

"I can't pay for it Luke! I can't. I'm not a prince. I don't get everything I want just because I ask," he spat. He'd never called him just Luke. It sounded strange and harsh on his tongue.

"Let me help you then."

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity it's just help. I can't help you?"

"I can take care of myself," he growled. "I didn't need you before I had you I don't need you now." 

"Han it could get infected."

"Then I'll deal with it myself. It's not your problem."

"Han, I'm taking you to the doctor."

He shook his head, whether in resignation or further refusal he wasn't sure.

Later that day Luke asked his father. "Sir?"

"Yes Luke?"

He was dumbly aware of his own tongue. "Han's wrist is broken, and he doesn't have the money for a doctor."

"Han Solo? Your servant?" His brows furrowed. "He can't pay?"

"No," he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Can we pay? Can we help him?"

Anakin Skywalker read his expression. He'd never told his father that he was gay, but it wasn't as if it was hard to tell. 

"Please, he's my friend," he said.

"We can pay for the boy's wrist. Call the doctor."

The next time Luke saw Han he was wearing a cast. He didn't meet his eyes, not at first, but then he looked up. "I'm sorry Luke. I didn't mean it. I was stupid and hurt."

"It's okay. How's your wrist?" 

He held up the cast uselessly. 

"Now you know how I feel," He held up his prosthetic. "Maybe I'll have to help you get dressed instead," he grinned.

"I really am sorry kid. You didn't deserve to be yelled at."

"Hey, it's not like I'm not used to it," he laughed.

"Quit it," he muttered. "You don't deserve it."

"I know."

"Do you?" He asked softly. "Because sometimes it sure as hell doesn't feel like it."

I didn't need you before I had you I don't need you now.

Was that it? The lingering doubt that told him that no one really needed him. Was he just looking for someone to need him?

"Why are you crying?" A hand was on his shoulder, panic in the voice.

"Am I falling for you because I'm so starved for trust and kindness and love? Is that why? Because that's shit."

"Luke..."

"You don't have to say anything," he muttered, flushing.

"Kid I don't need to." He leaned in and pressed a quick, nervous kiss to his lips...well the side of his mouth because his aim was bad. 

"Holy fuck I just kissed the prince." 

Luke leaned in to meet his lips again, firmer and hungrier. Han kissed him back. Luke tangled his hands in his hair, and Han slung his uninjured arm around Luke's waist.

"I trust you, and I care about you, and I want to hold you and give you the affection you deserve. God that sounds dorky." He kissed him again. 

"Wow kid have you done this before?"

"No," he replied sheepishly. "How am I?" 

"You're good. Believe me kid you're good."

"He kissed me. Han kissed me." After Han had left he went into Leia's room.

Leia dropped the book she was reading. "You finally got some action Luke! Good for you."

He couldn't stop smiling. "It was good. I've never been kissed by a boy before."

She ruffled his hair. "You really like him don't you?" 

"Of course I like him. How could I not like him?"

"I'm glad you do," she said. "I'm happy for you."

He flushed red. "I'm happy for me too." 

***  
He undid the buttons as usual. But then he kissed him goodnight, and tugged off his shirt with more force then required, and kissed his neck before stopping himself.

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't..."

"Don't be sorry." He still felt like he was on a cloud, his mind replaying the seconds Han's lips were on his.

Han looked down. "We can't be doing this kid. You're going to get in trouble. There'll be a scandal."

"Leia's gone a lot farther than kissing and she's never been caught," he shot back defensively.

"Leia's not the heir," he muttered. "You are."

"Do because I'm the heir I can't even kiss the boy I like? I can never fall in love? I'm sick and tired of living this life that's not worth living."

"Luke..."

"Don't Luke me, if this is about my father fuck him. I'm a person not a machine. I can't live like this anymore."

He put his hands on Han's shoulders. "You know I've never done anything risky my whole life. It was always too dangerous and I was scared. But now, with you I'd do anything. I'd go out and tell him I'm gay right now if you asked me to."

A glimmer of a smile. "I'm not asking you to."

"Well he's got to know right?" He smiled. "It's not as if I'm subtle."

"No," he frowned. "It's not as if you're subtle.

He swatted at him. "I'm subtle enough."

"Just keep telling yourself that."

He laughed. "You only knew because I told you. And I was drunk."

"It's a good thing I was the one around," he said, sobering.

"We could do it. We could keep it a secret," he kissed him again as if to seal the deal.

"Is that really what you want?"

"No, but I can't have what I want can I?"

Han's voice was nearly a whisper. "I don't know. Not without changing everything I guess."

He didn't want to change everything, as much as it was difficult he couldn't leave.

"All I know is I want you," he said softly. 

Han looked at him like he had two heads. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around why me," he laughed, a self deprecating kind of laugh that didn't seem right. "But if you're sure."

"I'm entirely sure," Luke said. 

***

There were a couple of weeks of kissing in empty stairwells and darkened hallways and in the bathroom during parties. When Luke's parents weren't home they took walks in the garden or watched movies curled up in Leia's room. Han was a fan of those involving royalty or secret royalty. 

They hadn't had sex. Neither had pushed it that far, and in truth Luke was a little afraid. He'd never...I mean there was no chance to. And Han had, he was sure of it. There was something anxious in it, something that made everything else too real. Kissing in the closet was all well and good but sex was another level entirely. 

Han was kissing him. He's helped him undress and they'd locked the door for privacy. Han's hands were on his neck, not straying. 

He felt faint, like he always did, and then Han backed him to the bed. His hands were on his chest. He trailed kisses down his jaw and started unbuttoning the silk pajama shirt he'd just put on him. This was dangerous territory.

"Han," he muttered into his mouth. "Slow down." 

He drew away. "Do you want to stop? It's fine if we stop I just thought..."

"I'm sorry," Luke said, face burning in shame. Why couldn't he? Why did it have to be so complicated?

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he said sternly. "You're ready when you're ready. There's no rush."

Luke sighed. 

"You do want to, at some point though?" He asked timidly. "Because if sex isn't your thing we can..."

"No, it's not that," he cut in.

"Is it," he looked down. "Sex with me? Is it because it's me?"

He looked legitimately worried, despite the fact that the question was ridiculous.

"Why would it possibly? How could you...?"

He started doing up his buttons. "Maybe you changed your mind. Maybe you're eying another prince," he said tersely. "I wouldn't blame you."

"I would blame me. Han it's you. You're the one I want. I've just..." Oh god, he knew already but it was still hard to say.

"It's just that you're regretting this? It's not worth the trouble you could get into? Because if that's the reason we should stop this now before I..."

"Before you what?"

He shook his head. "No, you don't get to know your highness," he muttered. "Not if that's the reason. Just tell me it's true."

"It's not true," I've never had sex and I'm scared it will mess things up. And I couldn't bare that."

Han's face softened. "Mess things up how?"

I'm dangerously close to falling in love. He thought but didn't say. That could mess everything up.

"I don't know."

"Well I'm not going to pressure you. I'd never do that. I just can't read your mind kid. And I'm having trouble believing you're as wild about me as I am about you. And I know you have a lot more to lose than I do. But I do have something to lose," he finished.

"And what is that?" Luke wanted nothing more than to smooth the crease that had formed between his eyebrows. 

"Don't make me say it," he said, voice rough and low and thick with something Luke couldn't name.

"Please," he insisted. "Tell me."

He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up. "I could be falling for you kid. And I'm not sure there's anything to break my fall. That's pretty risky."

"I thought you were a risk taker Mr. Solo?" Han smirked, and ghosted a hand on Luke's waist.

"If you're talking about that time I kissed my boss's son, then yes, quite the risky business your highness.

***

"Chewie, you've got to help me," Luke had managed to sneak off to the kitchen, and was now panting in the servants' staircase. 

Han's bearded friend who spoke little and in a low growl Han was one of the few who could understand eyed him curiously.

"I want to make dinner for Han. Can I use the kitchen?"

Chewie nodded, muttering something Luke couldn't make out. 

"Thank you."

He was making grilled cheese. Mostly because it was the only thing to make, somewhat because he loved grilled cheese. He found what he needed in the pantry, whistling to himself. His parents were out for Valentine's Day, and Leia was upstairs watching Hallmark channel movies.

He tried to set the table up nice, lit some candles, found some wine, had a few glasses while he waited. 

"Luke?" God his name sounded nice on Han's tongue. "What's this surprise you were on about?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said, standing proudly by his stack of grilled cheeses and half empty glass of wine.

"I see you drink while you cook kid?" Han raised an eyebrow and Luke laughed. 

"Catch up to me. We've got red wine in place of the tomato soup," he said, pouring him a glass. "And try my world famous grilled cheese."

"It's our first Valentine's Day," Han grinned at him. He hadn't quite caught up to him on the drinks front. Luke was a bit passed buzzed, and blushing violently. 

"How'd I do?" In answer Han kissed him. Oh how he loved this, he almost felt like a normal boy when he kissed Han. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes shut tight enough they could be at a fair on the top of a ferris wheel, or underneath a sky full of stars in the countryside, or wherever else movie couples had their movie dates. Because he sure as hell didn't want to be himself, not when that meant he wasn't allowed happiness like this. 

"I love you," he said. It just slipped out really, because he was drunk and floating in a world where it didn't matter that he was the prince.

And Han's face darkened. "You know this makes everything more complicated kid?"

He wasn't on a ferris wheel. There weren't any stars. He was royalty and Han wasn't.

"I know," he said, face draining of its color. "I still love you."

"I love you too."

The next morning Luke woke with Han's arm around his waist, face pushed up against his neck, legs tangled with his, breath soft of his cheek. He realized in his hungover haze that he was there, next to him, asleep, beautiful in the early morning light.

"Luke," the door flew open. "Mom's coming, hide him," Leia said urgently. Han startled awake and Leia threw the blanket over him. "Stay still," she said. She slipped out.

"Luke honey? Are you awake?" Padmè knocked gently on his door before pushing in. 

Luke got up to meet her at the door. "Yes mom?

She smiled at him. "You're father is waiting for you. How was your night?"

"Good," he replied. "And yours?"

She put her hand on his cheek. "I know you're having trouble finding someone for you," she said gently. "And I was lucky with your father. We had a lovely time last night."

I wish I could tell you, he thought. But I can't. 

"Call for Mr. Solo, he'll help you."

"Thank you mom."

"Is she gone?" Han whispered. 

"Yeah, you can come out now," he poked his head out from the blankets. His hair was messy, catching the light, nearly glowing in a kind of halo, though Han would laugh at him if he said that.

"Where'd your hand go?" He said sleepily, rustling around amongst the sheets looking for the prosthetic.

Luke laughed. "I forgot about it for a minute."

Han grinned, holding up Luke's other hand and giving it to him.

"I love you," he said, as he did this. "I love you even more this morning than I did last night."

Luke kissed him slowly despite the father who was waiting impatiently for him.

***

He remembered blood running down his forehead. And he remembered glass crunching, and wondering if his other hand was gone this time. He remembered an ambulance, and oxygen rushing into his lungs. He remembered asking for Han and for Leia.

And now he was in a hospital bed, eyes closed, limbs aching, drugged and dazed with a faint ringing in his ears that wasn't going away. He had a vague sense of what was going on around him: nurses assuring his mother that he'd come around in a little while, his father's hand on his shoulder, security ushering them out to somewhere safe. Then Leia, sobbing with her hand on his good one, and whispering something about sneaking Han in, and muffled apologies, before she was whisked away with muttering about how they hadn't found all the members of the group who did this, and that she must leave for her own safety.

And then there was Han, a warm hand on his all night, sobbing, body trembling, all night long. And he didn't realize love could hurt like this, and he wanted to wake up.

"They keep saying you're going to wake up," he sniffles. "But I don't think I can stop crying until you do. And I should've been able to protect you. Those scum who want to kill you just because they hate the monarchy, and with a car, as if a car hasn't already done enough damage," he spat. "The system may be fucked, but you didn't do anything wrong kid. You don't deserve to be..." His voice broke. "Just lying there. I c-can't stand to see you just lying there."

I'm fine Han. Let me let you know that I'm going to be just fine. He squeezed his hand, weakly but Han felt it because he leaned over and kissed him.

In the morning Han stood, brushed the hair from Luke's forehead, and left just as Padmé was entering.

"Mr. Solo stayed with you my darling," she said softly. "I don't know if my predictions are correct, but regardless that boy seems to love you somehow. And if you love him too...just know that it's fine with me, no matter how hopeless it seems I'll always be on your side my dear. Always," she was crying.

She seemed like a dream, a hallucination he hoped for desperately. But he reached out and found her hand, which seemed solid and real.

"Luke? Luke are you awake?" Leia was at his side when his eyes started to flutter open. 

"Leia," he muttered, voice thick with sleep and whatever it was they were giving him for the pain. "What happened?"

Her grip on him relaxed. "That damn driver was in an anti-monarchist group. He crashed the car to try to kill you."

"Is he alright?" Despite this new information, Luke had been fond of the man. 

"He died in the crash. They're still trying to find the rest of his group."

"Are you okay?"

She gave him an exasperated smile. "We're all fine. I'm just worried about you."

"How bad is it?" He asked dumbly, returning to the issue of his aching chest and immobile state.

"You have two fractured ribs, a broken leg and a pretty bad concussion. The doctor's say you'll be fine. You'll need bed rest, a wheelchair and then crutches, and a hell of a lot of pain meds, but you'll be alright."

Now that he was aware of the ribs they seemed to sting more. "Well I'm awake so I guess I'm on the right track."

She laughed, still a little teary eyed. "You're the most optimistic car accident victim I've ever seen."

"Second time's the charm," he smiled in a lazy, drugged way. 

She swatted his arm. "That's not funny we were all scared you big idiot."

"Hey, I'm sorry you were worried. Next time I'll try not to get in a car with a homicidal maniac."

And then she was crying again, hugging him gently as to avoid crushing his broken ribs. He kissed her hair and told her everything was going to be okay, because that was easier than any truth he knew. 

"Han's asleep in the waiting room. I told him I'd wake him if you woke up. Do you want to see him? Mom and Dad aren't here but I'll have to call them."

"Could you wait a little while before you call them? So he doesn't have to worry about getting in and out so quickly?" She nodded, and smoothed his hair from his eyes.

"Of course Luke. I'll send him in."

Han looked a mess. His shirt was wrinkled and it looked like he hadn't changed in days. He certainly hadn't shaved in days, and his hair stuck up from sleeping in chairs. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and his face was lined with worry, crease between his eyebrows prominent. 

"Hey kid," he croaked, voice hoarse from crying and desperate questions to doctors. 

"Are you okay?" He asked before he could stop himself. "You look worse than I do."

Han laughed, forced and weak. "Well all my ribs are intact so I'd say you're worse off."

"I'm sorry," he tried to sit up and winced, pain shooting through his chest.

"Hey, hey, lay back down." He came up next to him and put a hand on his arm. It was gentle, and quivering slightly. 

"I'm sorry you look like shit because of me."

Han laughed, choking back tears. "It's alright kid. There's nothing to be sorry for. How do you feel?"

"Tired, sore, hazy. I'm remembering things in pieces," he replied. 

"Well you remember who I am right?" He asked, paranoid. 

"Of course, Leia," he teased. "I remember Han," he said.

"So you won't be surprised when I do this?" He leaned in to kiss him, gently as if his lips were as bruised as his ribs. 

"Not at all," he hummed, suddenly feeling sleepy. 

"The medication is supposed to tire you out," Han said, anticipating his question. "I'll let you sleep."

Luke reached for his hand. "You sleep too. Go home and get some rest," his voice was slight, and higher than he expected.

"Okay kid, I think I can do that."

Luke was released from the hospital a week later with a heavy cast on his leg, a wheelchair that was mandatory, and a prescription for very strong pain medication. It was decided, Luke was sure Leia had something to do with it, that Han would look after him as he recovered. While the rest of the family dodged press inquiries and installed bullet proof glass Luke slept and read and stared out the window and was generally bored out of his mind. 

"Can we at least go out into the garden today?" He whined after the fifth day of Chopped reruns and old magazines. Han handed him a cup of soup. They'd been feeding him like an invalid too: soups and yogurts and plain crackers. His mother protested that they should be giving him foods that were easy on his digestive system, despite the fact that his digestive system had been in no way harmed.

"Your highness," Han said warily. He was spending more time around the family and was therefore more cautious with his use of more familial addresses.

"Han, I've been cooped up in here for 5 days. I've read the same magazine three times."

"I'll get you more magazines."

"I've seen this episode six times."

"Change the channel."

"Han I feel fine. I'm not tired, my ribs are getting less sore, and what the hell is going to happen with this giant cast protecting me?"

Han sighed, the crease between his eyebrows was back again, and Luke felt mildly guilty. "Fine kid, let me help you up."

Luke threw back the blankets and moved gingerly to the edge of the bed. Han picked him up easily, balancing the cast and loosening his grip around his ribcage. Luke held his breath to keep from crying out. Han would never let him out if he thought just getting in the wheelchair caused him undue pain.

It didn't, he could handle it. Ever since the accident Han seemed to think he was a museum piece, fragile, to be looked at and not touched. And oh how he wanted to be touched. He wanted so badly for Han to touch him. 

Han wheeled him into the garden, going slowly, almost at a glacial pace. "You know when I said walk I thought we might...you know walk? At a normal pace?"

"You can't blame me for worrying," he shot back defensively.

"I don't blame you for worrying. C'mere," he pulled Han down by his sleeve and pressed a kiss to his lips. Just touch me Han. Make me feel like a regular boy again. Han kissed him. 

"Hey, hey, I'm going to squash your ribs again. Luke honey," Luke kissed his neck. Touch me Han.

"Kid I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," he pulled him closer. 

"Luke I can't see you hurt again I just can't!" His voice rose. 

"Hey, hey I'm not hurt. I'm not getting hurt again. I just need..."

"What do you need? Are you okay?"

"No Han it's not...I don't..."

"What is it kid?"

Luke blushed furiously. "I need you to touch me, like before. I miss you."

Han let out a breath. "You have know idea how glad I am to hear you say that."

"What do you mean?"

Han sighed. "I was worried, that with all this time we can't...touch, I thought we'd grow apart, or you'd move on."

"I'd never..."

"I know that...there's just nothing sexy about me sobbing at your bedside."

"Or this cast," Luke put in.

Han grinned. "I think that's the sexiest cast I've ever seen."

***  
"Have you seen the tabloids?" It has been a month, Luke could walk again, with the aid of crutches and only slight discomfort from his ribs. He hadn't been keeping up with the tabloids.

"No Leia what is it?"

She held a paper out for him. 

"Prince Luke seen with mystery man at bedside. Secret lover or loyal friend?" Luke read aloud. "Why do they have to make these so ridiculous?" He glanced over the collage of blurry photos of him and Han. 

Leia sighed. "A few more reputable sources have picked up the story, and they seem to be leaning towards secret lover."

"So what does it mean?" Luke had limped down to Han's room and now was looking at him with scared eyes. "Nothing, I don't think it has to mean anything. We just can't let them get anything more incriminating. 

Han nodded, Luke was a little distracted at being in Han's room. He never had before.

"Do you think your dad is going to say something about it?"

Luke hadn't thought that far. "I hope not."

But he did, of course he did. As soon as Luke slid into comfort, into stability and happiness something had to crack. 

"I'm sure you've seen this?" Anakin Skywalker threw the tabloid at him as he ate breakfast. 

"Yes?" Luke said, looking up from his eggs. 

"I'm afraid we must fire him. Regardless of the I'm sure false allegations surrounding him."

"If the allegations are false why must we fire him?" Luke's throat tightened. He wasn't accustomed to speaking to his father this way.

Anakin's eyes narrowed. "These allegations are false?"

"Of course," he lied. "I just think it looks suspicious if we fire him now. Isn't that just fueling the rumors. And I need him to aid in my recovery." He was going to see through him. At any moment he would see right through him. There was nothing Luke Skywalker was more afraid of than his father seeing who he really was.

The elder Skywalker eyed him curiously. "We will not bow down to rumors," he said at last. "Tell Mr. Solo his job is safe."

And it was safe for a long time. 

***  
Rey looked up at the screen in front of her and unmuted it. They were crowning the new king after the death of his father. It was a somber time, but a time of new beginning.

"My dear subjects," the new king began. She had always liked him in pictures and interviews. He seemed kind. "This is a terribly sad time, but it is also the time of a new era, a time for our kingdom to flourish under economic reforms, and prosper with education for all. It is time for everyone to be free to be who they really are," he looked to a man beside him. "Han I don't care about scandal. We've hidden long enough. Han Solo will you marry me?" Cameras started flashing, the man beside Luke grinned and kissed him straight on the mouth, applause and utterances of shock filled the crowd. 

Rey stared wide eyed at the TV, entranced. She knew she liked him.


End file.
